


More Than A Friend

by believesinponds



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Background Jack Zimmermann/Eric "Bitty" Bittle, Background Snowy (Check Please!)/Alexei "Tater" Mashkov, Getting Together, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, hockey boys being soft, many snuggles, some minor pranks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 18:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19011085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/believesinponds/pseuds/believesinponds
Summary: Jack sees Tater as more than a teammate, more than a friend. On a long roadie, Tater does something about it.[OMGCP Reverse Bang 2019]





	More Than A Friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lasenby_Heathcote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lasenby_Heathcote/gifts).



> Thanks so much to the awesome [lasenbyphoenix](https://lasenbyphoenix.tumblr.com) for the lovely art that inspired this fic! Art is embedded at the top of the fic and I'll link to the Tumblr post once it's up.
> 
> This was tons of fun to write! Thank god for soft hockey boys <333

* * *

Jack loved playing professional hockey. Obviously. It had always been his goal, to play in the show. He was out there living his dream, with a team full of amazing people, and he really had nothing to complain about. Really.

The only thing was...he was _tired._

“Good game, kiddo!” Marty ruffled his still-damp hair as they filed into the hotel. “You gonna come for drinks with us old guys?”

Jack laughed quietly. “I don’t think so. Gonna hit the hay.”

Thirdy slung an arm around Marty’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, Zimmermann.” He patted Marty’s chest and pushed him toward the bar, winking at Jack over his shoulder. “I’ll keep this guy busy tonight. No captain stuff until morning.”

“Thanks, Thirdy.” Jack waved them off and headed for the elevators, his game bag sagging off his shoulder.

The ride up was mercifully quiet. He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes for a minute.

When the doors opened on the floor just below his, he straightened up.

“Zimmboni!” Tater flung himself into the elevator and pulled Jack into a startled hug. “What a game! We play so hard, and we win harder!”

Jack steadied himself on Tater’s arm and smiled. “We sure did.”

Tater, whose boundless energy could keep a city going for weeks, pulled back gently and tilted his head. “Zimmboni, you are sleepy.”

“Euh, yeah. It’s been a long couple of days.”

Tater rested a hand on Jack’s shoulder, moving slowly now. “Very long, yes. We are almost done, though. Only one more game before we go home.”

Jack nodded, his eyes droopy. “Thank god, eh?”

“Come.” The elevator dinged and the doors opened. “I am walking you to room.”

“Tater, we’re staying in the same room.”

“Yes, and I am walking you there. Come.”

Jack laughed and followed him down the hall and into their cool, quiet room. He dropped his bag on the first bed and watched as Tater flung himself onto the second, the mattress bouncing with the force of his fall.

“Careful,” Jack warned, still smiling. “Don’t wanna break another bed there, Mashkov.”

Tater rolled his head to glare at Jack. “I’m not breaking bed, Zimmboni. At least—” he winked “—not all alone.”

Jack snorted and pulled off his jacket.

“And you are calling me Tater or Alyosha.” He pointed his finger threateningly. “No more Mashkov.”

“Sorry, Tater. Habit.”

“I know. You still call fiancé ‘Bittle,’ so no hope for poor little teammate.”

Jack tugged his tie off and unbuttoned his shirt, fixing Tater with a pointed look. “You’re not just a teammate, Tater.”

Tater rolled over so he was on his stomach, facing Jack. He rested his chin in his hand and winked. “I know.”

Jack rolled his eyes and threw his rumpled button-up in Tater’s face.

Tater just laughed.

They both changed into their pajamas, the quiet room a comfort in the wake of Jack’s buzzing thoughts, and then Tater turned on the TV and found a home renovation show to wind down with.

“Come.” He lifted the blanket and patted his bed. “Time for post-game snuggle with best D-man.”

Jack smiled and crawled in, Tater’s arm around his shoulder.

“I’m keeping tally of every time they mention backsplash.”

Jack laughed, but he ended up falling asleep before they even heard the word once.

* * *

The next morning Jack awoke to his phone alarm and found himself tucked into his own bed. He turned over sleepily and smiled at Tater’s back across the room. He only vaguely remembered Tater shaking him awake to tell him it was bedtime. He didn’t really remember how he got over to his own bed, just that it somehow involved him sleepily brushing his lips against Tater’s cheek and saying goodnight.

He suddenly regretted how sleepy he had been—he would have loved to see Tater blush.

They got ready in silence, the early morning still holding them in a dream-like state. Luckily, Jack had long ago learned to nap on a plane whenever he could. As soon as they were all loaded in he adjusted his seat, turned onto his side, and went straight back to sleep.

It was a short flight, so it wasn’t long before he was being nudged awake by the politely-smiling stewardess asking him to bring his seat up for landing. Tater and Snowy were giggling behind him, but he didn’t pay them any mind—they were always teasing and making each other laugh. (He wasn’t sure what their relationship was these days, but he knew there was a lot of love there. And Snowy’s boyfriend seemed to be in on it, too, whenever he was around.)

They had a private bus and a quiet entrance to the hotel, so they weren’t greeted by any fans as they made their way in. Some of the guys seemed to be laughing at something, but Jack was getting himself into his pre-game mode, so he ignored them.

Tater and Snowy were still giggling.

“Zimmermann!” One of the new trades slapped his back. “Don’t you ever look in a mirror?”

Jack furrowed his brow. “What?”

The new guy laughed and shook his head. “You’ll figure it out.”

“Oh...kay.” He touched his face curiously but nothing came off. “Weird.”

He took the key card from one of the staff and found his room, claiming the first bed as usual. He kicked off his shoes, changed into his pre-game sweats, and went to splash some water on his face—he always felt a little groggy after sleeping on a plane.

It wasn’t until the cool water was trickling down his cheeks that he actually caught his reflection in the mirror.

“Oh.”

Little blue hearts trailed up his jaw. A lightning bolt was drawn over his eyebrow in the same color of blue. And on his cheek was…

“Shit. That’s a really good Zamboni.”

He almost didn’t want to clean it off—it was kind of cool.

“Heh. _Cool._ More like freezing.”

He went back to the bedroom and dug through his bag until he found his camera. He played with the lighting a little bit, opening and then closing the curtains and messing with the overheads until he got it just right. Then he took a few shots in the vanity mirror above the dresser and a few more against the curtains, his camera turned around selfie-style.

(Bittle would tease him for not just using his phone, but it wasn’t the same.)

When he was finally satisfied he put the camera away and went back to the bathroom to wash it all off.

Water wasn’t really doing anything, though. And he tried rubbing at it was tissue but he just ended up with a smudged face and little paper particles everywhere.

“What the hell is this stuff?” he grumbled to himself.

At that moment the bedroom door banged open. “Zimmboni! I am missing your beautiful face!”

“In the bathroom, you dick!” Jack shouted back, now rubbing with a towel to marginally better success. “This shit isn’t coming off!”

“I’m come to your rescue!” Tater bounded in with a small bottle in one hand, shaking it vigorously. “Snowy forget to tell me that eyeliner is waterproof.”

Jack frowned at him. “That shit never comes off. It’s not just waterproof, it’s fucking _hockeyproof.”_

Tater looked his face over and grimaced. “Whoops. Sorry, Zimmboni.” He held up the bottle—makeup remover. “Snowy send me with this, though. It should work.”

“Yeah, it better.” Jack held back his smirk. “It was a really good Zamboni, though. One of your best for sure.”

“Yes!” Tater turned him around and pushed him back to sit on the counter, positioning himself between Jack’s knees. “See? I am saying this, but Snowy is denying my artistic talent!”

“How rude of him.” Jack nudged Tater’s hip with his thigh. “Don’t worry, I took pictures. I thought Bittle might help me put them on Intergram.”

Tater rolled his eyes. “I’m know you know is _Instagram,_ Zimmboni.”

Jack smirked. “Yeah, yeah. You know me too well, Tater.”

“I know you right amount.” Tater poured some of the liquid onto a small cotton pad—where had that come from?—and lifted it to Jack’s cheek. “Now no moving.”

There was something...quiet about letting Tater take care of him. It was easy. Comfortable. Jack felt almost floaty, like he was drifting lazily on a calm, warm lake. Tater took hold of his face at one point, probably to keep it steady while he worked, and Jack decided he could probably sit like this for hours.

It was _nice._

“There.” Tater wiped off the last remnants of makeup remover with a clean tissue. “Now you all ready to be Scary Zimmermann at faceoff.”

Jack blinked a couple times and then smiled, squeezing Tater with his knees in thanks. “That’s good. Wouldn’t want to lose a game because somebody and his goalie got bored on the plane.”

“Ah, goalie is only having supplies. This—” Tater touched his jaw where the hearts had been “—is all Alyosha.”

“Hmm. Well, then.” Jack searched his face. “Good thing you were here to clean up your mess.”

Tater tilted his head forward the tiniest bit. “Yes. Very good.”

Jack licked his lips, but before he could lean forward there was a banging on their door.

Tater sighed. “Is Snowy. He is needing his things back.”

“Tater! Jack! Quit fucking and bring me my serum!”

Tater coughed and stepped back, his cheeks turning pink—ah, there was the blush!—and he hurried out of the bathroom, presumably to shut up his goalie.

Jack sighed and hopped off the counter.

Time to get his head in the game.

* * *

 

They were down by one and heading into the third period. Marty made a speech to get the boys pumped up and Jack slumped against his locker.

“Hey.” Tater sat next to him and rested an un-gloved hand on his knee, squeezing gently. He smiled around his mouth guard. “You are doing good, Zimmboni.”

Jack let out a huff and banged his stick on the ground. “Not good enough.”

Tater’s eyes narrowed and spit out his mouth guard. _“Jack._ You are good.”

Jack shrugged.

Tater squatted in front of him, probably hurting his bad knee, but he didn’t complain. “Jack Zimmermann. You are good player and good person.”

“You don’t have to do this, Tater.” Jack frowned at him. “I’m fine.”

“I’m not let my friend be so down.” Tater nudged him. “Is just one game, Jack.”

“You know that’s not gonna help, Mashkov,” Jack said, glaring.

Tater sighed. “What I’m say about Mashkov?”

Yeah, okay, that had been kind of a low blow. Jack licked his lips and let out a frustrated breath. “Alyosha.”

Tater’s face lit up. “Much better.”

“I’m fine, Alyosha.” Jack sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Just fucking pissed.”

Tater squeezed his knee again. “Is okay. Be pissed.”

Jack could do that. “Yeah.”

“But remember,” Tater grinned. “Hockey is team sport.”

He snorted. “Shut up.”

“Is team sport, Zimmboni.” Tater patter his leg. “And you are leader of team. So no more mopey, okay? Just pissed.”

Jack nodded.

“Anything can happen in third period, da?”

“Da.” Jack hit his stick on the ground again. “Anything can happen.”

Tater slapped Jack’s thigh happily. “Yes! We are coming back, Zimmboni!” He leaned forward. “We are _destroying_ them!”

Jack grinned back, his legs bouncing now. “Fuck _yeah_ we are!”

“And you’ll score goal! For me, da?” Tater leaned in and touched their foreheads together, putting on an exaggerated pout. “For your poor D-man friend Alyosha?”

Jack laughed and tugged on Tater’s (very sweaty) hair. “You’re not just a friend, Alyosha.”

Tater smiled. “I know.” He winked and touched his nose to Jack’s before pulling back. “Now!” He turned to the rest of the room. “Let’s make Schooners eat shit!”

The boys all cheered.

Jack felt lighter than air.

* * *

They won the game after all, and the adrenaline from winning combined with the relief of ending a roadie meant that the boys wanted to celebrate. Some of the guys were playing Madden, fighting over teams, and others were milling around with drinks, having loud conversations.

Jack was leaning against the doorframe, his hand in his pocket as he looked on. He would join them eventually, but for now he preferred to watch.

Tater noticed him pretty quickly, though, and said something quietly to Snowy, who looked up and winked before joining a new conversation.

Tater made his way over.

“Hey,” Jack said, smiling. “You killed it tonight, Alyosha.”

Tater grinned that special grin that Jack was starting to recognize. “Thanks.” He raised an eyebrow and his smile changed to a mischievous one. “Is a team sport, though.”

Jack shoved his shoulder. “Shut up, asshole. You’re the one who put it in my head.”

“I know, I know.” Tater raised his hands in mock-surrender. “Is still funny, though. They ask you about your _workout routine,_ Zimmboni.”

“Well, working out can be a team sport.” Jack bit back a smile. “Sometimes.”

Tater smirked. “Yes it can be. A very fun and _rigorous_ team sport.”

“God.” Jack shoved his shoulder again, but this time Tater used the return momentum to bring himself closer. He leaned a hand against the doorframe behind Jack’s head and shifted even closer.

“Alyosha.” Jack bit his lip. “Thank you.”

Tater tilted his head to the side, his smile turning sweet. “For what?”

“For...letting me be pissed? I think I, euh, needed that.” Jack shrugged. “So thanks.”

“Ah.” Tater lifted his free hand to touch Jack’s chest. “Is okay to be pissed sometimes. I’m learning this in therapy.”

Jack held Tater’s hand to his heart. “Sounds like you’re getting really smart about this stuff.”

Tater hummed and winked. “Is my therapist who is smart. I’m just learning.”

“Well.” Jack squeezed Tater’s hand. “You’re doing a good job.”

“Thank you.”

Jack slid his hand down Tater’s arm and then let it rest on his hip. He rubbed the soft fabric of Tater’s shirt between his fingers.

“Jack.” Tater leaned in closer, his hand moving up to Jack’s neck. “Is this okay?”

Jack tilted his face up those few extra inches to look him in the eye. “Yeah.” He licked his lips. “Yeah, this is okay.”

Tater touched Jack’s face, his thumb smoothing over the cheekbone. “Good.” He leaned in, pausing only briefly to double-check, and then pressed his lips to Jack’s.

Jack wrapped his arms around his more-than-teammate, more-than-friend. He pressed his hands into Tater’s back and hummed into the kiss.

He felt warm and safe there, kind of floating again. He felt like...something to be protected.

It wasn’t better or worse, but it was different than with Bits or Kenny. Tater was _big._ So very big. And Jack had never kissed a man who could easily lift him if they tried.

(Later. They would definitely try later.)

Tater pulled back gently, his hand still resting on Jack’s face, and Jack sighed. Nobody else paid them any mind—some of the guys were already paired off and engaged in similar activities, and some were already back in their rooms letting off steam. Their team had some strong connections.

Tater nodded toward the couch where some of the guys were playing video games. “You want to come snuggle with best D-man while Snowy kicks rookie ass?”

Jack grinned and pulled Tater into another soft kiss. “Definitely.”

They kicked a couple of rookies to the floor and settled into soft leather of the couch, Tater pulling Jack down to actually sit on his lap. Jack just laughed and obeyed, tucking his head into Tater’s neck and holding his hand against his stomach.

“Best snuggles,” Tater murmured, his fingers brushing softly against the hem of Jack’s shirt.

Jack kissed his jaw. “Definitely.”

Tater pulled out his phone and opened a text thread. “We send picture to Little B? He is loving your look this morning.”

“Of course you sent him pictures.” Jack shook his head, peeking at Bittle’s response to the doodles all over his face that morning. “You two are dangerous together.”

Jack could feel Tater’s hum rumbling through his chest.

Tater leaned down to whisper in his ear. “You have no idea, Zimmboni.”

Jack shivered.

“Now smile for Little B!” Tater took the picture and sent it before Jack could do anything.

Only a few seconds passed before the three little dots appeared, meaning Bittle was responding.

Had he been waiting at his phone for something like this?

 **Little B**  
_lord. aren’t you two a picture.  
i’m sweatin’ over here, honey_

 **Alyosha**  
_We are having good night, Little B.  
Zimmboni is liking snuggles after long game._

 **Little B**  
_i bet he is.  
have fun ;)_

Jack looked up at Tater’s grinning face and raised an eyebrow. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

Tater shrugged. “I ask for some advice. You are not easy man to read, Zimmboni.”

“Hmm.” Jack nodded. “That’s true.”

“Hmm.” Tater agreed, pressing his face into Jack’s hair. “I’m just having to learn, then.”

“Guess so. I think I’m okay with that.”

* * *

The flight back home was a long one, and Jack was rewarded for his patience about two hours in.

“Payback time,” he muttered to Snowy, who winked and stood from his seat. Jack sat carefully and lifted his instrument, a peacefully sleeping Tater next to him. He spend a solid twenty minutes perfecting his art, getting the details just right, and then he snapped a few photos to commemorate the occasion.

When he switched back to his own seat he hooked the camera up to his laptop and downloaded the pictures, scrolling through until he found the perfect one to post to his seldom-used Instagram.

He made sure to tag Tater in it.

The plane landed a full movie and a half later and they made their way through the airport, fans and media shouting at them. Tater signed several autographs and laughed along with his fans without any suspicion. Jack had to motion to a few of them to keep quiet, but they made it to the bus successfully and then all the way to the arena without anything cluing Tater in.

It wasn’t until they got into Tater’s car that he saw his own reflection in the rear-view mirror. He froze, confused for a split second, and then burst into laughter.

“Is a potato!” He giggled gleefully and pointed at his face. “Zimmboni! Are you doing this?”

Jack just smiled innocently and nodded at Tater’s phone. “Maybe you should check the Intergram.”

Tater snorted and opened the app, scrolling down through all the comments on Jack’s post from the plane. “You are sneaky man, Zimmboni.” Tater grinned up at him. “I’m impressed.”

He opened up his story and hit record, waving into the camera. “I am just seeing this! Just now! Zimmboni is a prankster!” He turned the camera to Jack, who laughed and waved, and then focused it back on his own face. “But look! So much detail. What a potato!” He zoomed in. “I’m thinking Zimmboni should quit hockey and become artist!”

He waved again and signed off, still laughing.

“So sneaky.” He shook his head and put his phone on his car charger. “Where are you learning this from, Zimmboni?”

Jack laughed and leaned across the center console to ruffle Tater’s hair. “I only learn from the best.”

Tater caught his hand and held it gently, his smile soft. “I’m so happy, Zimmboni.” He bit his lip. “Jack.”

Jack smiled back. “Me too, Alyosha.” He pressed a kiss to the clean side of Tater’s face and squeezed his hand. “Me, too.”


End file.
